Angel in the Centerfold
by Solunais
Summary: While trying to keep 221b from being classified as a natural disaster zone; John Watson accidentally stumbles across Sherlock's little secret and, unintentionally uncovers one of the ghosts of Molly Hooper's youth. Sherlolly
1. Chapter 1

John was yet again fighting the losing battle of keeping 221B in some semblance of cleanliness. He sighed and picked up Sherlock's dressing gown, the harpoon, and a couple of other items to put back where they belonged. He managed to nudge the door open before he lost his grip on the pile of possessions in his arms. The harpoon knocked the alarm clock off the table and sent it sliding under the bed. He gave a frustrated sigh before dumping the pile on the bed and crouching down on the floor. He could make out the vague outline of the alarm clock against something darker; he reached for it. Meeting nothing but air and ended up lying on the floor to try again. This time his hand brushed against something smooth and weighty before scooping up the clock. Curiosity got the best of Watson and he opened it feeling his jaw drop and his eyes widen a fraction in shock.

Sherlock Holmes, the socially challenged, asexual consulting detective had porn here. _Porn!_ John picked up the issue that lay on the very top of the pile. _Tiny Tits monthly_ spelled out in hot pink and white lettering across the chest of a lithe young woman posed provocatively on the cover. He glanced at the issue date and – oh bloody hell. That explained everything. Why Sherlock would always insist on collecting the mail for about a week near the end of the month. Why he always looked a bit disappointed and when those brown paper packages arrived; he would act like someone had committed a murder and would disappear into his room for hours. John shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose because he refused to follow that trail of thought.

When he asked him once about the flat package with brown paper, He simply told him that it was "The latest report on elements that can affect post mortem results." John had never questioned it again because, he was Sherlock Holmes. Always conducting horrible experiments and leaving body parts lying around where they kept food. To him the body was "merely transport" so to see that he was a man underneath all that cool deducing exterior was… refreshing.

He flipped through the glossy pages carefully shifted the magazines around until he worked his way to the bottom of the pile. Apparently he had been a _fan_ of this magazine for at least ten years now. An idea struck him like a bolt out of the blue. Sherlock's birthday was coming up soon and what better way to embarrass the hell out of him (if he ever got embarrassed) than to reveal that he knew his dirty little secret. He opened the magazine and discovered that they started publishing back in 1990… Sherlock's collection only went back to 2000.

Noting the web address in the corner, he quickly put everything back in order and rushed to retrieve his laptop. Bringing up the site, he searched for a section labeled "back issues" and clicked the link with a devious little smile.

A week later, he was sitting in his office when a knock sounded "John?" Mary called through the door "You've got a package."

It was then that John realized _Oh shit, its Sherlock's gift_, and rushed over to open the door for her.

He opened the door to her smiling face "Hello darling."

"Hello" he smiled and fidgeted a bit as he raised his hands and gestured towards the box "here, let me take it off your hands."

Mary noticed that he seemed a bit nervous. So she had to tease him a bit. Especially since she had already opened it and, saw the contents. She knew John, and all his kinks. She suspected that this particular parcel was for Sherlock. She swung away from him a bit "Oh, I've got it; I'll just set it on your desk for you." She planted a kiss on his cheek as she walked past and felt the heat practically radiating from his cheek. He could be so adorable sometimes.

"There we are," she announced as she placed the box on the table "Allthewaysyoushop Ltd. Hmmm," she hummed as if contemplating the name of the business before meeting John's red face "Is there porn in here?" John turned a deeper red.

She laughed "Oh close the door John, unless you plan to share Sherlock's little gift with the patients and the entire office."

He gaped at her "How…" he paused "Hang on, how do you know it's for Sherlock?"

Now it was her turn to turn a bit pink in the cheeks "I may have opened it thinking it was supplies for the office."

They chuckled before looking at the box "So how did you discover this little secret?"

"I was cleaning the flat up a bit, knocked over some stuff in his room and found his stash in a box under the bed."

"That's an awfully typical place to hide ones porn."

John nodded "Well, considering that no one ever goes in there except maybe Mrs. Hudson to do a bit of dusting and the fact that I've never found it before..." he shrugs.

"So Dr. Watson, since it's time for our lunch break… would you like to have a look?" she smiled coquettishly with her box cutter in her hand.

Mary and John reached in and pulled out random magazines from the box. They began to flip through them with Mary occasionally showing John and making a comment of "Oh I love her hair", "She's quite fit" or "what was she thinking when she got that tattoo."

"_Tiny Tits University issue '99_ oooh." She laughed and began to flip through the magazine before she froze at page 74 and a very familiar face.

Molly Hooper, Bart's head Pathologist and her friend was staring back at her from the glossy pages with a come hither stare and not a stitch on. Damn she was very fit. Who knew that what lay under those layers of clothing was a svelte seductress. And why had she never told her about this?!

Mary blinked before she began to gather up the magazines and place them back in the box.

"What is it?"

"I just realized that we're probably covering the pages with fingerprints and Sherlock probably wouldn't be too happy about that." She covered.

"You're probably right" he began to gather up the other stack and placed them back in the box.

Mary thought about sticking the magazine in her purse and disposing of it before anyone else could discover what was no doubt, Molly's little secret. _No, maybe I should leave it for Sherlock to find_, John had told her all about that Christmas when Sherlock had insulted the size of her lips and breasts. _What would he think now that his mousy little pathologist posing in a magazine_. Well, that was that. She set the magazine on the top and closed the box.


	2. Many Happy Returns

"No parties John and you know you can never surprise me anyway so why go through the trouble?" Sherlock looked up from his microscope.

"I wasn't."

Sherlock's eyebrow cocked "You weren't?"

"No."

"But you are planning something."

John scoffed "After your last birthday party went so spectacularly well? Not this year. You will be getting gifts…" he paused as Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance. "You will be getting gifts, and we will all be out having dinner in your honor. That is, unless you would care to join us."

"I'm busy."

"Busy? Busy doing what?" he was a bit annoyed now.

"I have some very time sensitive experiments that I can't possibly put off." he turned his attention back to his microscope.

"Sherlock –"John was about to retort when his phone rang, it was Mary. He knew that Sherlock wouldn't budge in his decision. So he decided to pick his battles. He walked up stairs and answered his phone "Hello love."

"Hello, darling; so has his majesty decided to grace his birthday dinner with his presence?"

"No, he's busy."

"Oh… well have you given him his gift yet?" the hint of mischief in her voice gave him pause. "No dear, why? You know, you've been acting a bit strange ever since we browsed through those magazines… is there something you're not telling me?"

"No. I just want to hear about his reaction to his present." She replied just a little too quickly.

"Mary," John began "is there something you want to tell me?"

"No, no, nothing at all. So when are you coming to pick me up?"

"Around 8 and when I get there, dear, you're going to tell me what's got you so on edge."

"You mean other than you?" she purred

"Nice try."

"Oh, it was worth a shot."

"I'll see you soon love."

"I'll be waiting darling."

In the closet, behind the box containing his old army uniform was _the box_. Mary had kept it at her flat until last night when she had brought it over while Sherlock was out on a case (the brother did it. Lestrad could have figured it out himself, clearly a three. They're getting lazy). It was wrapped in black paper with white skulls scattered across the surface and a big purple bow on the top. He shook his head and smiled. He was just planning to give it as is, minus the shipping label of course.

He needed to get going if he wanted to get there in time. He picked up his coat and the box before heading down stairs and depositing it on the kitchen table "Happy Birthday, Sherlock."

Sherlock stared at the box before lifting it and giving it a shake. Obviously it was paper in nature, books? No it would be much heavier and thicker if it were books. Maybe it was some back issues of _Pathology Weekly_ that he had taken to liberating from Molly's desk (after she had read them of course). "You finally got me something useful this time John." He smiled.

He pulled the tail of the bow, unraveling it and sending it fluttering to the table. He ripped the paper and lifts the flaps. He picked up the envelope (No doubt a birthday wishes card) and his smile drops while his heart stops at the sight of the magazine cover. No. Oh of course, stupid. The day that John had cleaned the flat; the harpoon had been back in his room and the clock had been angled a fraction to the left. He normally kept the box under a loose floorboard that was under his bed but Lestrad had texted him with a case and he had simply threw the box underneath and dashed out the door. Damn. With slightly trembling fingers, he opened the envelope

Dear Sherlock,

Many Happy returns. I just want you to know that I found your "collection" by accident, but I'm sure by now you've already figured that out. I just want you to know that it's all fine. There is nothing wrong or shameful about having things like this. So I decided to complete your collection with the rest of their issues. Glad to know that you're a real boy after all.

Your friend,

John


	3. Surprise

Be warned that this chapter has some self loving smut. If masturbation isn't your thing, just wait for the next chapter. mkay.

Sherlock always had a system that he always followed. Once a month he would receive his magazine, browse through it before indulging in a slow wank in the shower. That was the system, and that is how it would stay.

He lasted for a half an hour.

At first, he had closed the flaps and moved the box to the counter, just out of his eye line. But the contents of the box called to him like a siren on the shore. He had glanced up from his work multiple times towards the damned box.

Now here he was, propped against the headboard with a pillow, as he as he lazily flipped through the magazine. His experiments abandoned, box sitting opened at the end of his bed. He let his eyes until an image on page 74 caught his attention in more ways than one.

His mouth went dry as his cock twitched. No, it couldn't be. Was he staring at his pathologist naked and kneeling on a black satin sheet? Her eyes gazed out of the picture at the viewer while her pink tinged lips were slightly parted. Her hair fell in messy tousled waves around her and her back was slightly arched so that her pale pink tipped breasts, _god her breasts_, were thrust forward as if she were offering you a chance to taste her. No, this wasn't his Molly, clearly this was someone who looked like his molly; probably didn't even have the same name. His eyes darted down to read the blurb about the model:

_Queen of the Dead – 19 year old Molly is in her second year of medicine and is planning to major in Pathology. We at Tiny Tits are sure she'd be able to make the dead rise, if you know what I mean._

He looked closer at the photo and noticed the grouping of freckles on her shoulder was the evidence that settled it. _This_ _was Molly_, his Pathologist… He swallowed hard as his cock began to press uncomfortably against the zipper of his trousers as he recalled one such fantasy.

Molly was standing in front of the tall mirror attached to his wardrobe, hands braced on either side, the muscles in her shoulders flexing while his hands gripped her hips as he thrust into her from behind. Watching her reflection as her breasts bounced with every thrust seeing her mouth open as she gasped and called his name. He would pull out, spin her around before hoisting her up against the mirror and thrusting into her again, her heels digging into his ass, her nails clawing at his back or running through his hair.

Sherlock whipped the shirt off and tossed it to the side along with the magazine to the side and nearly ripped the button off of his trousers as he shucked them down just enough to release his aching cock. He slicked up his hand with the bottle of lube he kept under the lip of the nightstand before he gripped the base of himself and gave it a squeeze, trying to tamper down the desire to come like a prepubescent boy. If he was going to break his routine, he was going to at least do it on his own terms. He was lying to himself of course.

He ran his hand down his chest before teasing and pinching a nipple, imagining a pair of lips kissing around it, tongue teasing the sensitive peak before moving to the other. With his other hand, he stroked up and squeezed the foreskin over the head of his cock before sliding his hand back down then up again. Christ he knew he wouldn't last long since he was so bloody worked up from his discovery. A sudden flash of Molly naked on her knees before him stroking and sucking him, that red lipstick smeared along his cock as he thrust into her mouth. He moved his free hand from his nipples, down to cup his balls, gently squeezing, imagining those petite hands wrapped around him. He felt the muscles in his body tense as he got close. His strokes became faster; his breaths came in pants as his body tensed as he reached his peak. He came with a moan and Molly's name on his lips; muscles twitching as come splashed on his stomach and chest.

He lay there for a moment to catch his breath, body trembling slightly from the intensity of his orgasm before reaching for a tissue to clean up a bit before taking a shower.


	4. There's Something About Mary

_Meanwhile at Mary's_

Mary opened the door to reveal that she was wearing a black figure hugging dress, her short hair done in chic waves that framed her face.

"Hello my love," she smiled.

It took John a moment to find the words. "Holy Mary… Mary you look stunning." _And you're a complete idiot John Watson._

She smiled. "Well thank you sir, I should dare say you're a handsome fellow yourself." They kissed tenderly. "Maybe I should invite you in for a quickie before my fiancé shows up."

John chuckled as Mary smiled. "Well, my fiancé is very, _very_ beautiful and I love her very much; you see we're going to this birthday dinner and the birthday boy will not be in attendance." He pretended to study her for a moment. "You see, I plan to take her out to dinner and then later…" He pulled her close and leaned in to whisper suggestively, "I could have you for dessert."

"Promises, promises Mr. Watson."

"Oh, it's a promise I intend to keep, soon-to-be- _Mrs. Watson_." John smiled and pressed a kiss to that sweet spot on her neck that made her weak. He felt her slight shudder against him.

"We'll have none of that now sir. Why don't you come in and let me finish getting ready. It'll only take a moment."

John stood in the entryway waiting for Mary to gather her things. She walked around the corner with her coat, which he helped her put on and they were in the taxi within a minute.

They sat in silence, holding hands as John rubbed gentle circles along the pad of her palm. "Mary?"

"Hmmm?"

"Would you care to tell me about why you're so keen about Sherlock getting his present?"

"I told you John, I just wanted to know about his reaction to his gift." There was that little frown that let him know she wasn't being entirely honest.

"I gave it to him before I left," John admitted.

"Why did you do what?"

"Because to him, well maybe to just about everyone on the planet, this is a private thing. I doubt he'd be very happy about opening something like that in front of everyone. Remember Mary, this is the man who sees sentiment as a weakness and the body as transport."

She sighed. "I suppose you're right."

John stared at her for a moment. "Alright Mary, tell me the secret."

"There is no secret!" There was that little frown again.

"Yes there is. I can tell because you get this little frown line right here when you're not telling the whole truth." He pointed to the place just to the left of her right eyebrow. "So tell me what the problem is."

"Damn." She sighed and stared out the window for a moment, gathering her thoughts. John waited patiently for her to begin.

"Okay, but you have to promise me that you will not tell another living soul for as long as you live."

"Yes of course."

"Promise me John!"

"Jesus, yes I promise. Do you want me to pinky swear on it as well?"

She glared at him a bit before taking a deep breath and casting the cabby a quick glance. "You know those magazines we looked though in your office?"

"Yeah?" he prodded.

"Well I might have seen someone we know in one of them."

"Jesus, are you sure?" John looked a bit stunned.

"I'm very sure love."

"Was it Sally? Sarah?"

She shook her head. "Molly."

He giggled a bit hysterically before responding with disbelief. "No… you're joking… no way."

"I was just as surprised as you are right now."

John ran his hand over his face. "Oh Jesus, the box-"

"-I'm sure he knows by now."

"Oh bloody hell Mary why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because I thought it was time that Sherlock realized that... he fancies her."

"Sherlock Holmes?"

Mary nodded.

"We are talking about The Sherlock Holmes? Consulting detective?"

"Yes, John. I am."

"Really?! Are you sure?"

"Haven't you noticed the way he looks at her when he thinks nobody else is looking? How he has stopped insulting her and started treating her like she's… I don't know, special?"

John thought back to the first time Sherlock came back from the dead. He tried to remember the last time the consulting detective had commented on the size of her lips and breasts in a scathing manner. His eyes widened in shock. "Oh God, you're right. Do you think he could have liked her this whole time?"

She shrugged. "It's possible. He seems to be a man-child in many ways still. Kind of like a boy pulling plaits to show a girl he likes her."

"Oh gods help us."

She smiled at him as the cab pulled up to the curb.

John's sigh was deep and heavy. "What am I going to tell Molly?"

"You're not going to say anything about it."

"Well I just can't keep this quiet! Sherlock will surely-"

"-be too embarrassed about the whole thing and won't say a word. You don't want to embarrass Molly, do you?"

"God, no."

"Ergo, we keep this to ourselves. I may bring it up in conversation when the time is right, but it will be after Sherlock makes a move."

"How can you be sure he will?"

She smiled. "I just am."

They entered Angelo's and sitting there, chatting with Lestrade, was one half of the subject in question. It was hard for John to wrap his head around the fact that sweet Molly had once posed naked in a magazine… _It just goes to show you that it's always the quiet ones who surprise you_, he thought.

_A few minutes earlier_

Molly and Greg sat at the table inside Angelo's, waiting for the rest of their party arrive.

"So how have you been?" Molly began as she took a sip of water.

"Oh fine, great really; how about you?"

"I'm good, busy as usual but then again as long as people die, I'll never be out of a job." She smiled.

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

They talked a bit more, Molly asking about his wife and kids. Greg positively beamed with joy. They had gotten marriage counseling and were working things out. His daughter was preparing to take her GCE's, while his son was captain of his football team.

"Well, enough about me. What about you? Is there a special someone in your life right now?"

"No, not really; I've dated a bit but they didn't really work out."

"Oh. Sorry."

"No, it's fine." There was an awkward moment of silence. "So do you know if Sherlock is going to show?"

He shrugged. "You never can tell with Sherlock, can you?"

"Right." Molly gazed down at her hands for a moment before looking out the window.

Greg couldn't help but notice a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Oh look, there's John and Mary." Molly pointed towards the window where she could see them exiting the cab.

Greg raised his hand and waved at the pair who weaved their way through the tables.

Greetings were exchanged before Greg asked the question: "Is Sherlock not coming then?"

"No, he said he had some uh, experiments that he was working on."

"What about Mrs. Hudson?"

"Visiting her sister in the country but, she sends her love."

Angelo headed over with a bottle of wine. "Here we are Inspector, our house wine. Anything you want is on the house. I'll be back when you're ready to order."

"Thanks Angelo." He took the bottle from him, tilting it a bit in the air. "Hope you don't mind that I ordered a bottle?"

"Oh no, it's fine, I need a drink after today," John sighed.

"Yeah, well being friends with Sherlock isn't always easy." Greg chuckled as he poured wine in glasses and handed them out.

"No it is not." John accepted his with a nod and a slight toast.

"Was it a case?" Molly asked before taking a sip of her wine.

"No um…" He could feel his palms begin to sweat.

"It was absolutely mad today," Mary covered as she gently rubbed his shoulder. "He's just a bit tired."

"Yeah, just a bit." John took a big gulp of wine. He turned towards Mary and smiled. He was grateful for not only her quick cover story, but about not showing him Molly's picture. Not to mention that Sherlock no doubt knew by now. Hell, he was just grateful that she was going to be his wife. She was right, he was lucky to have her.

Oh God, Sherlock now knows what Molly looks like naked. NO, he wasn't going to think about that right now because he planned to get pissed… and fast. No thinking about Sherlock and his stash of porn or naked Molly… none. He was going to need lots more wine.

By the time midnight came around, Molly was pleasantly buzzed while Greg was completely sloshed. John and Mary were no better off than Greg; not to mention they were mere millimeters away from snogging on the table in front of the entire restaurant. Well, at least the few remaining patrons that were there.

Molly sighed and pushed away from the table "Well I do believe that I am going to call it a night." She looked at the drunken trio. "Do you need me to call you a cab?"

The trio nodded and murmured their thanks.

"Oh bollocks…" John sighed. "I forgot need to take Sherlock his gifts."

"I could do it," Molly volunteered.

John stared at her a bit bleary before shaking his head. "No, no; I've got it."

"It's no trouble at all; happy to do it." She smiled.

John was about to protest when Mary squeezed his thigh in warning and replied on his behalf. "Thank you so much Molly. That would be wonderful."


	5. A Very Happy Birthday Indeed

Let's give another round of applause to Cumberbabeusa for being an awesome beta.

**Also be warned that there me sexy times ahead**

* * *

Sherlock's groan reverberated off the tiles as he came for the second time that night. Only this time, it was to the image of a wet naked Molly riding him as they shared a bath. He closed his eyes as he rested his head against his arm, which was braced against the wall. He closed his eyes and caught his breath as the shower washed away the evidence of his activities this night.

Twice in less than half an hour: a new record for him. Well, not counting that time when he was twenty-two and he conducted an experiment on male sexual stamina and the production of semen. He deleted the results from his mind palace, unfortunately, to make room for information about perfume blends and how to recognize them. Pity, he could have used it as a baseline for either the incline or decline of such stamina.

He shivered. The water had grown cold. He turned the tap off, stepped out while wrapping a towel around his waist and tucking the corner in haphazardly.

She was too good for him and he knew it. That Christmas when he had deduced her so cruelly, he had been jealous. It took him a year to come to that conclusion. It confused him because jealousy was the fear of losing something of personal value. It positively reeked of sentiment and annoyed him to no end. Nonetheless, he realized that he had developed… feelings for her. But the real question was, when had his feeling of friendship for his Pathologist morphed into something more? He couldn't pinpoint when that shift occurred, he only knew that it had happened.

The sound of footsteps alerted him to the fact that he was not alone but it wasn't John, no. This person was trying to be quiet, possibly to avoid disturbing him and since it wasn't John, and since Mary was always with John that left only one option: Molly was in his flat right now.

Molly set the bags containing Sherlock's gifts down as she fiddled with the keys that Mary had dug out of John's pocket because of his state of intoxication. She let herself in and tried to quietly ascend the stairs so as to not disturb Sherlock and his experiments. The door to their flat was open; she simply planned to walk in, deposit his gifts on his desk and hopefully slip out unnoticed… and maybe catch a fleeting glimpse of him.

"Thank you Molly." That familiar timbre spoke from the kitchen, nearly causing her to lose her grip on the bags.

"Jesus, Sherlock," Molly scolded a bit as she set the bags down. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" When she turned around she realized how wrong she was because now she could feel her heart about to beat out of her chest at the sight of wet, half-naked Sherlock. "Oh! Sorry!" She turned away to give him some measure of privacy her cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about Molly, you see bodies every day."

_Yes but they're not someone I fancy or have a pulse,_ she wanted to say; instead what came out was "You're right." She turned back around and kept her eyes on his face.

"Thank you for dropping these off." He gestured towards the bags as he moved closer. His gaze was intense, moving over her figure as she stood there. He was no doubt deducing what she had for dinner, where her dress had come from and various other such facts that only he could pick up. He stopped a foot away.

"It's no problem." There was something about him tonight, a sort of energy that he only got when he was on the trail of a criminal. An almost tangible buzzing of energy that seemed to permeate the very air around him. "I better go; the taxi is waiting for me."

"I know."

She closed the distance between them. "Happy Birthday, Sherlock," she said as she went up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek.

At the same time, Sherlock turned his head and instead of Molly's lips meeting his cheek, they briefly met with his own. She pulled back with a small gasp "Sorry! I-"

Sherlock gently griped her wrist to keep her from bolting, her pulse slightly elevated, pupils marginally dilated. "-Molly..." he whispered and closed the distance between them once more, and this time it was not an accident that caused Sherlock's lips to meet Molly's.

_He's kissing me. He's KISSING ME! Oh gods am I dead? Is this really happening? I can't believe it_. Molly's mind frantically tried to keep up with the events as Sherlock's large hands came up to cup her head. He guided her backwards until she was pressed against the wall. Her fingers were twisted in his wet curls, the damp that still clung to his skin seeping into her clothes. His tongue touched her lip with an urgent yet gentle question which she answered enthusiastically. While his tongue danced with her own, his hands, oh gods his hands were now on her bum, pressing her into his body so that she could feel… he was naked, _where did his towel go? _ Sherlock Holmes was naked, dripping wet, kissing her, and hard. Molly moaned when he pressed his thigh between her legs and began to grind against her, his large hand cupping the underside of her breast as his finger teased her nipple through the fabric of her dress.

She let one hand caress his skin down to his chest where she teasingly circled a nipple with the tip of her finger. He growled, the reverberations flowing through her as he gripped her leg and hiked it over his hip, pressing harder into her stomach with his erection. He trailed his fingers slowly up her thigh as he moved his lips down her neck where he nipped and sucked at the skin there. She moaned when she felt his fingers caress her through the damp cotton of her panties.

"Please, Sherlock," she gasped into his ear as he teasingly caressed the seam of before starting to work his fingers underneath the elastic.

They both were jolted out of their pleasurable haze when they heard the front door slamming. Sherlock pulled back to look at Molly, her pupils were fully dilated only leaving a thin ring of brown on the edge, the dampness of her panties against his fingers, her lips were swollen from their kisses and her cheeks were flushed. He wondered if it went all the way down…

He noted the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs (judging from the gait and preference to one leg, it was Mrs. Hudson. Came back early because she and her sister had a row… of all the times.)

Sherlock grabbed his towel from the ground and rushed off towards his room. It was one thing to be seen naked by Mrs. Hudson but it was another to be seen naked with an erection by Mrs. Hudson.

Molly sagged against the wall for a moment before looking down at the state of her clothes: skirt wrinkled, cardigan unbuttoned (when had that happened?!) and hanging from one shoulder. She quickly shrugged it back over her shoulder and straightened her skirt as the footsteps reached the landing.

"Oh! Molly, you gave me a fright dear."

"Hello Mrs. Hudson."

"There's a taxi outside, is Sherlock going somewhere?"

"Oh! No, it's mine I was just dropping off his gifts." Molly smiled as she tried to edge her way towards the door.

"Are you alright? You look a bit flushed; you're not coming down with something, are you?" Mrs. Hudson pressed a hand to Molly's forehead.

"No, I'm fine, just a bit out of shape is all."

"Oh… well I just came to wish Sherlock Happy Birthday. Cut my trip a bit short because my sister-"

"-I really should be going now Mrs. Hudson… my taxi."

"Right, well it's lovely to see you again dear. You should come around some time for tea."

"I will. Goodnight."

"Goodnight dear, hope you get home safely."

Molly was still reeling when she stepped into her flat. She kicked off her heels and gave Toby a scratch before heading to the bathroom to change her clothes and wash her face. After she finished, she stared at her reflection.

_ I just got snogged by Sherlock Holmes! _

She smiled at her reflection before noticing something on her neck.

_ Wait a minute… is that a hickey?!_


	6. Confessions

Thanks to Cumberbabeusa for being my beta

* * *

Moments after Mrs. Hudson had left, Sherlock stood in his room, his hands clenched into fists.

_That was a very stupid thing to do._

Sherlock let out a grunt and waved his hand as if swatting at a fly. "Shut up," he mumbled."

_All hearts are broken, Sherlock. Sentiment is a chemical defect in the losing side. _The mind palace version of his brother taunted him.

"Shut up."

_It'll be just like the fall all over again. Only this time they will go after her._

"No."

_Because they will know that she does count. Dare I use the word, __**love**__?_

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!"

_Then again, are you even capable of love? She deserves someone who can love her back and- _

"-I **DO** LOVE HER!"

Just like that, the annoying Mind-palace version of his brother was silent. Sherlock sat on the edge of his bed, the magazine lying on the floor, Molly's image staring up at him.

_Well you have a funny way of showing it. Why not invite her out for dinner? You know you want to._

Would he have no peace from his mind tonight?

"Have you come to torment me now, Woman?"

_You know I can't stand to watch people starve._

"I'm not hungry."

_I never said it was food you were hungry for. Don't forget I'm in your head so I know what you're thinking. You can lie to yourself all you like but deep down you know the truth of the matter. _

Sherlock sighed and ran his fingers though his hair.

_Why are you so afraid to let go? It's obvious she wants you just as much as you want her. Or have you already forgotten how she responded so passionately to your kisses? How she moaned so prettily for you, called your name and begged you?_

Sherlock felt that familiar tension beginning to build again. He touched his lips, remembering their kisses and caught a whiff of Molly on his fingers. "I will mess it up and I will lose her," he admitted.

_You never know until you try. _

"Tomorrow… I'll tell her tomorrow."

_She's not at the lab tomorrow. It's her day off. She's having lunch with Mary… remember?_

"Tomorrow evening. I'll ask her for coffee."

_Good luck. _ The woman smirked and faded into the background.

Sherlock placed his gift from John with the rest of his collection, the University Issue lying of the very top of the pile.

Eleven hours had passed since the kiss and the… up against the wall bit with the grinding and his fingers- – _Stop it right now Molly Hooper!_ She berated herself.

He didn't appear to be high when she saw him that night. Was he drunk? No, she would have tasted the alcohol or at the very least smelt it. It was probably just a bloody experiment to him. Or maybe he was going through his own version of Pon Farr and got a bit excited…God she was a fool, a world class tit.

Molly was ruminating over how stupid she was when Mary walked up and nudged her with her elbow before sitting across from her. "What's the matter? You look a bit lost in thought."

"It's nothing!" Molly practically shouted and sat up straighter.

"_Molly_…" Mary scolded in a warning tone, "did something happen?"

"No… yes…" Molly felt herself blush a deep crimson. "Maybe."

Mary studied Molly's appearance for a moment. "That's a beautiful scarf you're wearing."

"Oh thank you."

"Take it off."

"What?!"

"You're hiding something because you never wear scarves. When I came over you looked very deep in thought... did you shag Sherlock?!" Mary gasped as her eyes widened with equal parts shock and joy.

"NO! We did not shag."

Mary leaned forward. "Did you at least feel him up a bit?"

"Mary!"

"Did he feel you up?"

Molly was silent but her flaming red face gave away her answer.

"Well you obviously did something last night, because you've got a scarf on and you're as red as a tomato. So my dear, obviously something happened between you and our dear consulting detective." Mary's lips spread in a sly grin.

"Please Mary; it was a mistake, I'm sure."

"Mistake my ass. I'm sure John's little gift gave him the right nudge."

Molly's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What?"

Mary leaned forward. "Apparently," she whispered, "Sherlock has particular tastes in women. John found his secret stash of porn by accident one day… does _Tiny Tits_ ring any bells?"

Molly had always been pale, but now she looked like one of the cadavers that came into her lab.

"What…how…Oh God does everybody-"

"Only Sherlock and I saw."

"You… and Sherlock saw... Oh God." Mary sat there in silence while Molly tried to take deep steadying breaths. _Was that what last night was about?_

"Do you need some water?"

"I'm fine… Did John-"

"Nope. I tucked it away before he could see it. He does know about it though. I can't believe you never told me about this!"

"Well how was I supposed to say it? How do I broach the subject of posing naked in a magazine?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe something like '_hey Mary I posed naked in a magazine back in my Uni days, be a dear and pass the salt?'!_"

They stared at each other for a moment before breaking into a fit of giggles.

"So," Mary began after they calmed down a bit, "what prompted you to bare it all for a magazine?"

Molly shrugged her shoulders. "I was nineteen, and after hearing people saying for years that I had 'less tits than a toddler' I finally developed a pair of breasts. I just… I don't know; I wanted to be daring, sexy and do something that people would never expect of me."

"Well you certainly pulled that off love. I swear for a moment I considered inviting you for a threesome. That is if his nibs wouldn't kill us both after we finished."

"Oh please Mary, Sherlock doesn't care about me. He doesn't do sentiment… remember?"

"Oh Molly," Mary cooed. "You haven't a clue do you?"

"What?"

"Sherlock fancies you."

Molly was silent for a moment. "Go on pull the other one," she huffed.

"I'm not joking. Not to mention that the scarf you're wearing tells me that he has more than just love on his mind."

"Mary-"

"Molly and Sherlock sitting in a tree F-U-C-K-I-N-G."

"MARY!" Molly shushed her with a scowl.

"I'll stop if you take off the scarf."

"No."

"Fine, but you have to have dinner with John and me tonight."

"Does it mean you'll stop asking me about the scarf?"

"Yes."

"Fine, do you want me to bring anything?"

"Just yourself… and wear something that shows some décolletage."

Molly threw up her hands and slumped against the back of her chair. "I give up."

John was sitting in his chair, his head still pounding from the alcohol as he waited for Sherlock to make his appearance when his phone buzzed startling him from his hung-over stupor.

_We're having Sherlock over for dinner tonight and don't take no for an answer._

_Xx Mary_

He was just about to text her back asking why when Sherlock came out of his room.

"-Jesus Sherlock put something on!"

Sherlock huffed and disappeared back into his room for a second and returned, wrapping his bed sheet around himself.

John shook his head_. Suppose it's better than nothing_. "Mary wants me to invite you over to ours for dinner."

"Why?" Sherlock poured himself a cup of tea.

"I dunno, haven't asked her yet… she's very insistent about it though."

"Can't, I have plans." He sat down in his chair with a sigh.

John texted back: _He says that he has plans._

John's phone buzzed again.

_Molly will be there so tell him to bring wine, the good stuff that he nicked from Mycroft a while back. _

"She says to bring the good wine."

"I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

"A personal errand."

"Fine, okay so it'll be just Mary, Molly and Me."

"Molly's coming?"

"Yes."

"What time is dinner?"

"I thought you had plans?"

"I might be able to work around them."

That was a sudden change of mind…"Is this about the fact that you've seen Molly naked?"

Sherlock got really still; he slowly looked toward John, his eyes suddenly going icy. "What do you mean, John?"

"I know about Molly posing naked in that magazine." John noticed Sherlock's grip tightening on his teacup, threatening to break it. "I didn't see myself but Mary saw, she didn't tell me she knew until last night."

"Did anyone else see?"

"No, at least none that I know of… are you jealous?"

Sherlock scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Yes you are; you're jealous that other blokes have seen Molly naked… but why? She's not your girlfriend-"

"-I just don't appreciate… people ogling my friend."

John studied Sherlock for a long moment. Bloody hell Mary was right, Sherlock did fancy Molly.

"Shut up." Sherlock grumbled as he abruptly stood and stalked back towards his room. "I'll bring the wine," he stated before slamming his door shut.

John ran his hand over his face.

Sherlock in love, God help us.


End file.
